


Too Close to Touch

by AnneCumberbatch



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/Unversity, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fatal Attraction, Made For Each Other, Sexual Tension, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, The Misfits, Unrequited Love, different from everyone else, sadistic friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-25 18:12:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7542862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnneCumberbatch/pseuds/AnneCumberbatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're different. </p><p>They're not like everyone else.</p><p>How could anyone else understand. </p><p>This love is rare. </p><p>This love is dangerous.</p><p>Adler, Moriarty, Watson and Holmes attend university for majors in the dramatic arts. Close friends, their dynamics vary throughout the school year. As Sherlock and John become busier in their lives, the bond between Irene and James begins to develop in an unexpected way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter titles inspired by The Six Degrees of Separation by The Script
> 
> For my Irene.

The dull monotonous voice of professor Howe wafted through the darkened classroom, the light from the projector reflecting on the bored expressions of his film students. His topic of lighting design for film was uninteresting to the twenty people scrolling on their laptops or typing non-subtly on their phones in their laps. John Watson, Irene Adler, and James Moriarty sat in the second row. John sat in his chair, the hood of his LotR hoodie resting around his neck and giving him a snuggled-in look. He was predictably working on another school assignment, fingers typing on his laptop, quietly ignoring the professor who spouted somewhat useless and inaccurate information. Irene sat next to him, her more uniquely styled leather jacket covered with pinned-on buttons announcing her interests and beliefs on the leather around the collar, slouched on her frame. Her thin red hair lay slithered across one shoulder; her fingers flew across the keys of her keyboard as she responded to a Facebook message. James, sitting next to her, slouched in his grey hoodie which was pulled up over his head, watched the screen with a bored expression on his face, waiting for her to respond.

            When the message popped up, a flicker of a smile appeared to have crossed his face before his fingers flew in a quick and biting response.

            When Irene saw his response, her eyes looked up at the professor and then back down to her computer with a smirk on her face.

            Occasionally, Irene would reach over and tap John’s arm, tilting her laptop slightly to show him a conversation bit. John would smile and roll his eyes at the two of them before returning to his work.

            This happened in all of their classes.


	2. Second Part

 

The backstage area of the school was relatively quiet. The footsteps of passersby echoed against the cement floor and high brick walls. The tall arched ceilings with exposed beams curved the noise back down, creating a distorted sound. The garbled murmurs of conversation were audible, but the actual conversation was unintelligible. Sherlock sat slumped over at the table he was sharing with Irene and James, his head resting on his folded arms, which lay on top of his closed laptop. His fingers drummed restlessly against the perforated grey plastic of the picnic table that rested in the backstage area. He sighed as his two companions bantered back and forth with an underlying bite to their words. James and Irene were arguing over a film short idea. Sherlock closed his eyes as they went back and forth between ideas. The pair had grown quite close and were often discussing film projects or debating concepts. Irene and James were covered in small red marks and bruises where the arguments had turned somewhat violent, resorting to pinching, scratching, or pushing against the wall. Sherlock thought the entire concept was somewhat ridiculous. The idea of injuring each other to prove a point was a sign of mental degeneration. It was reminiscent of the primal nature, which Sherlock thought the two were better than. But Irene and James’ friendship did not seem harmed by their arguments, in fact it only seemed to grow stronger and because of that, Sherlock was impressed.

Irene and James continued bickering, smiles creeping onto their faces as their remarks grew more and more violent and threatening. Their eyes shone the more creative they got with their comments. The tension between them grew and the space between their faces lessened as they leaned over the table, spitting out their comments to each other.

 


	3. Your World Splits Down the Middle

Irene lay slouched on the sofa, Kate sitting next to her. Irene’s feet were resting on Kate’s lap and Irene’s hand rested against Kate’s hip, her fingers underneath Kate’s shirt. John and Sherlock were talking in the kitchen, relatively quiet despite the odd remark by Sherlock which carried a little farther than he’d probably have liked. Their friendship had been somewhat rocky because of John’s continual absence from Sherlock’s life and Sherlock’s mental state had suffered from that.

James lay on the other sofa, somewhat watching the film. Occasionally, his gaze would drift over to look at Irene and Kate, sitting cuddled up on the sofa. On several occasions, Irene would lean up and whisper something in Kate’s ear, her lips brushing the skin against Kate’s neck. Something flared up in James’s chest, a sudden tightness. He turned his gaze back to Portlandia. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw their cuddling and heard their whispering underneath the dialogue of the show. He tensed unconsciously, his jaw tightening. He kept his eyes on the sketches in the show. He wasn’t sure what he was doing. His fingers tightened into a fist by his leg where it wasn’t noticeable. His fingernails tore into the flesh of his palm until he could feel the wetness of blood leaking from his hand. He pressed his hand against his dark jeans, feeling the sting of the gashes on his palm. James continued staring straight ahead.


	4. Fixed Yourself

Irene and James stood in the communal area backstage, waiting for Sherlock to be done with the play he was crewing. As props chief, he had to count every prop and make sure it was accounted for before putting it away. This took a bit of time. John had gone backstage to see how he was doing. James stood somewhat apart from Irene, looking at the floor about ten feet away. He wore the same blank expression he almost always had. The area was silent except for the noises and voices coming from the green room and backstage.

James stood slouched a little farther away from Irene than he normally stood. Irene noticed the odd sensation in the air, but took it to be James simply in a mood. Sometimes his attention would be unattainable. It was in these moments, Irene had to judge whether or not she should try to engage him to pull him out of it or to leave him be. Given his distance from her, she went for the former and moved closer, hoping her closer presence would bring his attention back to the present. He shifted as she drew closer, and brought his gaze upwards so he was looking at the wall right at eye level. He glanced at Irene and nodded in acknowledgment of her. She smiled back at him.

John and Sherlock came out of the green room. Sherlock looked exhausted, carrying his backpack on one shoulder. John smiled at James and Irene. “Ready?”

James nodded, burrowing his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie.

Irene grinned. “IHop?”

Sherlock shrugged. “I’m good for whatever.”

John nodded. “IHop it is then.”

The group started walking towards the door. Irene was more than aware of James’ presence right next to her as they left the building.


	5. Someone Else

James and Irene sat sprawled out on the leather couches in the communal area backstage. Their screenwriting class started in about thirty minutes so there was nothing for them to do but sit. Irene lay slumped against the side of the sofa, her head leaning back against the cool brown leather, her bag snug against the armrest next to her. Her legs were spread across the seat, resting on James’ legs. James had his hood pulled up over his head and was looking dully at his phone, resting his legs on the coffee table in front of them. He scrolled slowly, glancing at his Facebook.

Every once in a while, Sherlock passed by them, his wrench attached to his belt as he walked to different locations. Working for the lighting designer, Sherlock was often busy, but he always waved at them as he walked by.

John was busy doing God-knows-what. John was always busy now. As the coordinating producer of their film project, he was constantly organizing meetings, filing paperwork, or meeting with members of the crew, cast, producers, and directors. He didn’t have time to talk anymore. It was just the two of them.

They were perfectly happy sitting in silence together, each doing their own activity. Being in the other’s presence was companionship enough to satisfy them both. Irene felt the warmth of James’ body through her exercise pants and closed her eyes, fully comfortable. Every once in a while, James’ eyes would glance away from his phone and over to her. He didn’t make a move to push her legs off of him. In fact, his arm rested securely on top of them, his fingernails scratching small patterns into her ankle, leaving the raw red marks on her pale skin. It was a new sensation, having someone with him almost constantly. Having this sort of friendship. He had never felt this way towards a person before. He found himself drawn to her in a way he knew would not end happily.

Irene watched him quietly in a somewhat dazed state. Schoolwork had prevented her from getting much sleep and all she wanted was to go back to her home and get into bed with James.

James.

She meant Kate.

Kate, her partner. Her beautiful, gorgeous, kind partner.

Kate.

She wanted to get into bed with Kate.

Her gaze sharpened as she examined James closer, running her eyes over his familiar face. What a peculiar mistake she had just made. As she looked at his face, a smile rose inhibited to her face and she felt a warm feeling rise from her chest into her face. A feeling she only felt with Kate. This wasn’t good. This was dangerous.


	6. May Have Fucked Up a Little

The production meeting had been over for an hour, but John was still inside talking to the other students about their assigned positions and coordinating tasks. James and Irene had given up on standing up and waiting for John, so they had settled on the floor against the wall down the hall a little from the room and were sitting with their backs against the solid surface and their legs sprawled out in front of them. Their bags were on opposite sides, closing them in. “John’s doing too much. Why can’t he just let them figure things out on their own. He isn’t responsible for everyone.” Irene leaned her head back against the wall.

James tilted his head and looked at her. “John wouldn’t do that.”

Irene sighed. “I know, but I wish he would. We’ve been waiting here for forever and I’m fucking starving. I haven’t eaten since lunch and it’s already almost eleven. At this rate, Sherlock will be out of his rehearsal and we can all go together.”

James didn’t really move, but sat there in silent acknowledgment. His fingers absently ran over the pattern of the carpet in-between the two of them. Irene glanced down at his hand. She moved hers minutely closer until the edges of their pinky fingers brushed against each other.

James tensed slightly in an almost unnoticeable movement before relaxing. Their fingers slid against each other, entangling and locking. Irene’s eyes rested on their combined hands quietly.

James looked into her eyes. They moved quickly, their mouths coming forward as quickly if drawn by magnets. They stopped millimeters away from each other. James could feel the warm air coming from Irene’s slightly parted lips. Her eyes slowly opened. They stayed a moment, just like that. Unmoving. A buzzing filled Irene’s ears as she looked into James’ eyes. They both froze.

As if released by the force pulling them together, they separated with gasp-like inhalations, moving apart. James’ eyes never left Irene’s face.

“We can’t.” Irene’s hand brushed over James’ upper arm.

“Kate.” James dropped his head down towards Irene’s shoulder, his breath releasing onto her neck.

 Irene shivered and closed her eyes, tilting her head back slightly. “I want to.”

“We can’t.” James’s tongue flickered out, tasting the soft skin at the base of her neck.

Irene dragged her fingernails across James’ shoulder and down his arm, leaving red marks where his t-shirt ended. “It would destroy us.”

“I know.” James dragged his teeth harshly across her clavicle, leaving red, raw skin behind.

Irene exhaled softly, pressing closer to his mouth.  “We can’t.”  
“I want to.” James licked slowly along the marks he had made with his teeth.

Irene shivered. “I love Kate.”

“I know.” James bit her clavicle, feeling the bone between his teeth.

Irene clenched her jaw and moaned. “I can’t leave her.”

“What we have is different.” James sucked on her white skin.

“I know it is.” Irene slipped her fingertips under the collar of James’ t-shirt and, feeling the warmth of his skin.

“I think I love you.” James’ voice was barely audible, his face pressed against Irene’s shoulder.

Irene closed her eyes. “I know.”

Voices approached the hallway from the doorway of the meeting room. Irene and James shifted away from each other quickly. Irene pulled her shirt up to cover her collarbones and pulled on her leather jacket, bringing it close to her neck.

James smoothed down his shirt and settled against the wall, pulling out his phone and staring at it.

Five students walked out of the meeting room and walked down the hall in the opposite direction, ignoring the two people sitting on the floor.

John walked out into the hallway, carrying his backpack firmly on his back. He smiled. “Ready?”

Irene stood up quickly and grabbed her bag. “Yes! Let’s go! I’m hungry and you took forever.”

James took a little longer to get up, standing as if arthritis plagued aged joints. He grabbed his bag and shrugged. “I don’t care where we go.”

John looked between the both of them and nodded. “Okay. iHop then?”

Irene nodded. “Sounds good! I’m starving.”

The three of them walked to through the hall, heading to John’s car. As they left the building, James and Irene glanced at each other. This kind of love was dangerous. It had the potential to not only ruin their lives, but ruin their friendship. There was no possibility of stopping.


End file.
